


The Problem with Apocalypses, According to Dean Winchester, Fate’s Bitch.

by Meh_forget_it



Series: Gospel's 'Verse [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-21
Updated: 2011-10-21
Packaged: 2017-10-24 20:18:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/267473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meh_forget_it/pseuds/Meh_forget_it
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets that Sam’s in pain and struggling with everything going on. He does. He just doesn’t know how he can help him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Problem with Apocalypses, According to Dean Winchester, Fate’s Bitch.

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings** : Angst (from Dean, be shocked!), mentions of addiction and substance abuse, blasphemy, strong language,

Family

Dean didn’t want to ignore his brother’s pleas. Sam had _asked_ him to lock him up, to help him get the demon blood out of his system. Dean agreed. And he wasn’t quite man enough to admit to anyone but himself, but Dean hesitated before agreeing. He didn’t want Sam to go through that again. And that was why he forced himself to ignore Sam’s pleas. Because if he didn’t, Dean would break and give him what he wanted. If it eased some of Sam’s pain, Dean was prepared to drag every demon within a mile radius into that room and give Sam his full.

But he couldn’t.

So he ignored him.

And he ignored Castiel, who he knew was just trying to help, trying to reassure him. But Dean didn’t want reassurances. Didn’t want empty promises. Dean just wanted to sleep forever.

Unfortunately, Dean’s decision to ignore Sam’s pleas didn’t end when Sam was finally let out of the panic room after almost two weeks of pained screams for Dean to stop the pain. Dean was still _hearing_ his brother, his Sammy’s pained cries. They haunted his sleep and even his waking hours. So he couldn’t actually bring himself to start paying close attention to Sam.

He did know though. He knew that Sam was in pain still, knew Sam wasn’t sleeping. At all. But Dean didn’t know how to help Sam. He was totally out of his depth. He was ashamed of himself for how he was treating Sam, but he didn’t know what else to do. It wasn’t exactly like he could just click his fingers and take the pain away.

He knew of someone who possibly could, but for his own sanity, he refused to think of them. Plus, he had the irrational thought that that certain being was kinda like Bloody Mary, only you didn’t need a mirror and only had to actually _think_ his name.

But, inevitably, Dean was going to break. His will to ignore Sam’s pain for his own sanity’s sake (and yes, he _knew_ that was selfish, but what could he do?) and he just silently prayed to whatever god would actually listen to him, that if he looked like he was coping, like he was strong, then Sam would have that to cling on to. And would be able to keep saying no to Lucifer.

Because Dean was out of ideas now.

* * *

Dean shifted guiltily on the bar stool, he knew he was probably acting like the most suspicious bastard in the bar, which was really saying something, as it wasn’t exactly high class. Dean _was_ feeling guilty though. Probably not for what he should be feeling guilty for. Leaving Sam, because he couldn’t deal with seeing his brother slowly killing himself by refusing to sleep.

And when Sam did sleep, Dean always wondered if it would be his little brother that was waking up. Oh, he knew Sam wouldn’t say no in his sleep, but he also knew that little by little, Sam was breaking. And Dean couldn’t help but fear the day that Sam woke up from his nightly visit from Lucifer, and had just… broken. Snapped. Was no longer the chubby twelve year old Dean would protect like a lioness and her cub.

Dean fervently wished for those days to be back. When Dean _could_ protect his baby brother from all the evil and bad in the world. Now the biggest evil most people could name was torturing his brother, and he was only able to watch silently.

A rustling next to him alerted him to the fact that someone had sat on the stool next to him, making him twitch in unease and glance out the corner of his eye at the person. The trench coat clued him in.

“Cas. What are you doin’ here?” Dean muttered, clutching his bottle of beer tighter and shifting to look at the angel properly. Dean flinched at the look Castiel sent him.

“Why are you here, Dean. Why are you not with Samuel?” Castiel asked him, and Dean couldn’t help but flinch at the formal wording of Castiel’s speech. He knew he’d pissed the angel off when he reverted back to his cold, soldier of Heaven personality.

“What can I do there, Cas? Other than make him flinch every time he sees me. Don’t think I don’t notice. I do. I know he thinks I hate him. That I don’t trust him. But I do.” Dean muttered, then scowled at the bottle in his hands, wondering how much he’d drank. Because he certainly hadn’t intended on admitting to that.

“Why do you not let him see that? If you trust him, why do you ignore him?” Castiel asked, and even without looking at him, Dean knew the angel was doing that confused head tilt thing. He and Sam, before the whole Famine business had pretty much destroyed what little relationship they’d retained, had had an amusing discussion about that particular expression. Sam claiming it proved they were just giant parrots.

“Because I don’t want to, alright? Leave it, Cas. I’m dealing with it on my own.” Dean said, and winced as even he could hear the blatant lie in that statement. However, something in his tone must have reached Castiel, as he left it alone, and disappeared from the bar with a soft rustle of feathers.

Dean just sighed morosely and let his head drop to the bar with a dull thump, before blindly waving the barman over. He needed something stronger.

* * *

Dean flinched as he heard Sam yell, followed by a crash as his brother was thrown across the room by the spirit. They’d worked out that it was a bear tying the spirit here, and Dean had grumbled about creepy ass customs with kids toys. As usual, they’d both separated in the house, both looking for the bear. It was an heirloom apparently, which made Dean shudder.

Castiel had appeared in the room Dean was searching through, moments before they both heard Sam’s yell and the crash, and Dean gaped when Castiel held out the bear in question.

“Where the hell did you find that? Never mind, let’s just burn it before it kills Sammy.” Dean muttered, salting it before he lit his lighter below it and then smirked as it ignited, taking the spirit with it.

“Dean…”

“Later, Cas.” Dean hissed, leaving the room and heading to the entrance hall of the house. “Sam, it gone?”

“Yeah, it’s gone. You got it.” Dean gave an inaudible sigh of relief at hearing Sam’s voice. He could ignore the pain lancing it, hearing his voice in any state still meant Sam was alive at least. He clung on to that.

Dean watched Sam walk slowly towards them and felt the ever-familiar stab of guilt shoot through him as he saw just how tired Sam looked. And he considered whether or not to talk to Sam about a futile plan he’d had. He didn’t. Didn’t want to get Sam’s hopes up. Or finally do what even Lucifer hadn’t been able to do, and break Sam. But the more he saw Sam weakening, the weaker his will to keep quiet was getting.

“Are you okay, Sam?” Castiel asked Sam, and even Dean saw the surprise shoot flash through Sam’s eyes, before they softened with Sam’s now normal, tired smile. Dean just wanted to shake Castiel, scream at him that clearly Sam _wasn’t_ okay. Instead he just looked away.

“Yeah, I’m fine. You two alright?” Sam asked, and Dean couldn’t bring himself to speak, to answer. If he did, he was honestly afraid of what would actually come out. Dean turned his back on Sam and left the building, knowing that he’d probably just snapped the last of what little trust the two had. He cringed as he heard Sam’s next words, softly spoken. “Still hates me then, huh?”

Dean wanted to scream. Shout at whoever would listen that they didn’t deserve this. Sam least of all. None of this would have ever happened if Dean hadn’t been selfish. If Dean had been able to accept Sam’s death the first time. And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Dean’s complete and total dependence on his brother.

He was aware that Sam thought the whole Apocalypse was his fault, and that Dean blamed him for it too. Dean didn’t though. Oh, he knew that Sam had a part in it, but he was hardly the only one to blame. He wasn’t even the most to blame. Sam had just done what he’d thought was right. Dean was the one that broke the seal, and it wasn’t like Castiel was innocent of anything, either. He had let Sam out of the panic room after all.

Dean didn’t stay close enough to hear Castiel’s reply. Didn’t actually want to hear what the angel actually thought of him. Because he knew Castiel was disappointed in him. He didn’t want to hear it spoken out loud though.

Dean climbed into the Impala and sat there in silence, waiting for Sam and Castiel to get in so that he could get back to the motel room. Then, once he was sure Sam was as safe as Dean could make him, Dean was going to drink until he couldn’t remember anything.

* * *

Dean glanced at Sam, sitting on the bed and seemingly staring at nothing, and could feel his resolve breaking. He needed to get out the motel room before he didn’t something that no one would be able to make right.

He frowned at his brother in concern, before biting his tongue to keep himself from actually saying what he wanted to say. He patted his pockets and then walked over to the door, grabbing his jacket

“Sam, I’m gonna head out for a while, okay?” Dean muttered, wincing when Sam jerked in surprise at being addressed, and then blinked at him in confusion.

“Where’s Cas?” Sam asked, voice thick with fatigue. Dean couldn’t help but wonder just how out of it Sam was for him not to have noticed Castiel leaving. And how much sleep he had actually gotten the night before. Dean knew he _had_ slept, he hoped it had been peaceful, but didn’t actually believe it was. But still, he’d thought it would have been enough to give Sam’s body some reprieve. Clearly it hadn’t been.

“Cas went to carry on his search for God. He told us that before he left, Sam.” Dean told him, stopping himself from taking a step closer to Sam, unsure of how to actually react around him now. How to get Sam to realise that Dean truly just wanted to help, but didn’t know how.

“Huh.” Sam muttered, going back to absently picking at a loose thread on the bottoms of his jeans.

“Sam, I’ll be back sometime later tonight, yeah? Stay in this room, okay?” Dean asked, flinching even as he asked it, but honestly not wanting Sam to leave, more so given the state he was in. If Sam left the relative safety of their motel room, then knowing their luck, he’d get run over because he just stepped in front of a car he didn’t see coming. Dean just needed Sam to stay safe. That was all he wanted at this point. Everything else was pretty much a futile wish.

“Yeah, sure, Dean.” Sam mumbled, and Dean sighed quietly at Sam’s dull response, opened his mouth to say something, but then thought better of it and just left the room. He could hear the hazy promise of alcohol-induced amnesia calling to him.

* * *

Dean didn’t get the chance of drinking himself into a miserable stupor. Didn’t actually get the chance to get a little tipsy. He’d only just reached the nearest bar, when Castiel appeared next to him and then took him away silently with just a tap to his forehead.

“Dude! What the hell?!” Dean demanded when they finally appeared in what looked to be an empty warehouse, and made the hairs on the back of Dean’s neck rise.

“I cannot allow you to continue with your treatment of Sam.” Castiel informed him in a low growl, which told Dean just how pissed off he’d made the normally calm angel. Dean cringed and stepped away from Castiel, wincing when his back met a wall.

“Cas… You can’t… I don’t know…” Dean just trailed off, not actually all that sure what he had been trying to explain. He couldn’t explain himself as he didn’t actually want to admit the reasons of his recent actions out loud.

“You are causing irreparable damage to your brother’s mental state with your behaviour. It is as if you wish for him to say yes. Do you? Have you just given up?” Castiel demanded, and Dean gaped at him, shaking his head.

“No! No, I don’t want that, Cas! You know that! You know I don’t… you do, right? You know I don’t want that for Sammy, right?” Dean asked, hating himself for how weak he sounded, but Castiel’s accusation had finally just been his limit in all this.

“I don’t know anymore, Dean. I cannot understand why else you would treat Sam as you have been doing.” Castiel admitted, and Dean looked up at Castiel to see the angel was actually frowning at him.

“I’m not… I’ve got to!” Dean exclaimed, not knowing what else to say. It wasn’t like Castiel or anyone, in fact, would be able to understand his reasons.

“Why? Why do you feel you have to torture your brother, even whilst he’s being continuously tortured every time he falls asleep by Lucifer. Do you not think he is under enough pressure? He needs you, Dean.” Castiel told him, before he stiffened and frowned. Dean didn’t have to ask what was wrong, as it soon became apparent.

“I’d like to know the answers to that too, little bro.” Dean glared at Gabriel as he walked over to them to stand next to Castiel. Dean would admit to feeling a flash of fear go through him, however, when Gabriel glared at him back.

“What’s it to you?! You wiped your hands of us! Didn’t want to help us, remember?” Dean spat, sure he was scared, but he didn’t see where Gabriel had the right to ask those questions.

“I’m the one that’s just saved your brother’s life. He seemed to think that his only chance in this was to put himself into a coma. Only, fatigue doesn’t just break your mind down. Makes your body weak too. If I hadn’t healed him when I had, your brother wouldn’t be alive right now.” Gabriel told him, and Dean felt the blood drain from his face as he lost the feeling in his legs and dropped to the floor.

“Sammy? Sammy’s… he’s okay now, right? You healed him, right?” Dean whispered, looking up at Gabriel, who was frowning at him. Dean glanced at Castiel, and saw that the angel wasn’t even looking at him anymore. “He’s okay? Please, is he alright?”

“I healed his wrist, yeah. Not sure I can say the same for his mental health. So, want to explain why you’ve done the one thing even my brother couldn’t achieve?” Gabriel asked, and Dean could tell that the Archangel was only just holding on to his temper. He could practically taste the power rolling off the shorter man.

“I don’t… I trust him. I don’t hate him! I love him, he’s my little brother! But… I feel so useless. I can’t do anything to help him!”

“He doesn’t know this though. Your behaviour has made him think you no longer trust him.” Castiel pointed out quietly, and Dean laughed dryly, shaking his head as he felt tears burn his eyes.

“What’s so funny about mentally torturing your younger brother?” Gabriel snapped, and Dean just shook his head, not looking up from the ground.

“It’s not. Nothing’s funny anymore. I just… It’s me.” Dean mumbled, shaking his head and clenching his hands into his jeans.

“What’s you? Well, besides the real reason for Sam breaking, I mean.” Gabriel commented and Dean snorted before he reached into his back pocket and pulled out the small plastic bag that had been in there for the past week. His plan. That even _he_ knew was a Bad Idea. Capital letters needed. He held the bag in his fist, then slumped looking up, but not rising his eyes past Gabriel’s chest level.

“I don’t trust me.” Dean muttered, sighing and glancing to the side briefly when Castiel shifted slightly. Dean wasn’t sure if it was from surprise or disgust.

“You don’t trust yourself? To do what? You can scream your acceptance of Mikey from the highest building in the world and it still won’t make him want your body as his vessel. He’s too fond of the one he’s already got.” Gabriel told him, and Dean huffed in annoyance.

“No, I don’t trust myself around Sammy. I don’t trust myself to not just give in and give him what he wants. I don’t trust myself to not implement the dumbest idea I’ve had to date, which is really saying something. And most of all, I don’t trust myself not to kill Sammy accidentally.” Dean finally admitted, and he couldn’t help but think everyone lies. He didn’t feel lighter having admitted that. He felt worse, actually.

“What plan?” Castiel asked suspiciously, moving forwards and then crouching down to force Dean to look at him. “Dean. What plan?”

Dean shook his head, hand clenching tighter around the bag in his hands, he then dipped his head to refuse to look at Castiel. To admit to the horrific things he’d considered doing.

“Dean, what did you plan to do to Sam?” Gabriel asked him forcefully, and Dean flinched at the power behind that voice. Gabriel moved and then dropped to his knees in front of Dean and wrapped his hand around Dean’s wrist. “What’s in your hand?”

"Nothing." Dean muttered, suddenly feeling it would be a bad idea to own up to his plan. He knew it was stupid, he didn't need anyone to tell him that. And Gabriel was already clearly angry with him, no need to make it worse.

"It is clearly not nothing, Dean." Castiel commented and Dean cringed away from him, but allowed Gabriel to tug the bag loose from his fist.

" _This_ was your plan?! What, you decided to just screw yourself over? Everything get too much for you so you quit? I mean, it’s not like you’re needed anymore, is it, Dean?" Gabriel spat and Dean flinched at the pure disgust in the angel's voice.

"No!" Dean said, before frowning and slumping. Not like his plan was much better. Actually, it was worse.

"Then why've you got it?"

"Sammy."

"Sammy?! What, you don't think the kids fucked up enough?" Gabriel exclaimed, and Dean noted that he could only actually detect surprise and confusion. He refused to look at Castiel though. He didn't want to know what he thought of Dean.

“No! I just… I don’t know what to do! I was gonna throw it away. I don’t even know why I bought it. It was stupid. But… you didn’t hear him beg and scream for me to give him what he wanted. He’s… I practically _raised_ him! And I just wanted his pain to stop, you know? I thought… I don’t know what I thought.” Dean whispered, biting harshly on his bottom lip to stop the tears that wanted to fall. He refused to cry in front of Gabriel, of all angels. Only Zachariah would have been worse.

“You thought covering one addiction with another one would take the pain away.” Gabriel muttered, snapping his fingers and making the small bag disappear. “It wouldn’t have worked you know.”

“I know. That’s why I never did it.” Dean muttered, before deciding to just face the music and he straightened up to look at Gabriel. “I screwed up, okay? Not like you’re one to talk.”

“Pardon?”

“I wanted to help my little brother, but saw the only way of doing that as either fucking him up completely, or ignoring him. You… you just abandoned your little brother because you didn’t see any way of being able to help them. The way I see it, we’re the same kind of idiot.” Dean told him bluntly, and Gabriel raised an eyebrow at him, whilst Castiel inhaled sharply and moved to stand next to Dean, as though protectively.

Well, at least he no longer wanted Dean dead. That was something.

“Good point. So what do we do about that?” Gabriel asked him in a forcefully calm voice that made Dean twitch, before they both stood up, Dean wincing as his knees clicked from kneeling on the clod floor for so long.

“We make it up to our little brothers. Somehow.” Dean muttered, glancing at Castiel out the corner of his eyes. “You can start with Cas.”

“Dean…”

“No, Castiel, Dean’s right. Michael and I… we’ll make it up to you for leaving you up there.” Gabriel stated and Castiel blinked, his only sign of being surprised, before he nodded sharply then placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“We should get back to Sam and Michael.” Castiel said, and Dean flinched at the sound of Sam’s name.

“Sammy’s okay… yeah?” Dean asked, and Gabriel looked at him with narrowed eyes, before he sighed and shrugged.

“Like I said, physically he’s as well as I could make him, though he should be better with some peaceful sleep. Mikey’s watching his dreams, keeping Lucifer out. Still, I can’t say how he’s gonna be mentally. That’s all down to you, Deano.” Gabriel said.

“Don’t call me that. And yeah… let’s go to Sam.” Dean said with a sigh, feeling a little better when Castiel squeezed his shoulder soothingly, before he took him back to the motel.

They arrived in the room to see Sam curled up into a ball on his side, clutching at the sleeve of Michael’s shirt, whilst said angel was reading—

“Doctor Who? They’re _books_?” Dean asked incredulously, deciding to focus on that, as opposed to how small Sam looked.

“Don’t start him on them.” Gabriel muttered, before he coughed and raised an eyebrow, nodding his head towards Sam.

“He’s sleeping alright, isn’t he?” Dean asked, stepping away from Castiel and Gabriel, and moving nearer to the bed, not taking his eyes off of Sam, but well aware that Michael was watching him warily.

“He is now, yes. Lucifer failed to get past me, and I had to sooth a nightmare, but he’s sleeping pretty deeply now, actually.” Michael said, and Dean nodded before he sat on the bed next to Sam.

“I didn’t want this to happen. I just thought… I thought I could… I don’t know. I was selfish. And it’s like he’s being punished for it.” Dean murmured and then looked up and scowled when Michael snorted. “What?”

“You! You’re all about the self-pity and guilt, aren’t you? You both need to get rid of that habit if you want to beat my brother. Not only that, but it’s actually a bit annoying. Were I Castiel, I’d have smote you long ago. Then again, if I were Castiel, I’d have made a sonic screwdriver to go with that coat.” Michael added, and Gabriel snorted in amusement. Dean didn’t even have to move to know that Castiel was probably confused over everything Michael just said. Dean was a little with him on that.

“Mike…”

“It’s true, Loki! He needs to realise that what’s done is done, he does! You can’t change the past, but you can work to make it better, you know?” Michael said, and Dean just gaped at him, not entirely sure what to say to that. And partly because Dean was finding his accent sort of hypnotising.

“We are trying to make it better.” Castiel pointed out, clearly seeing that Dean had apparently forgotten how. And Dean was sort of happy that Sam wasn’t awake to witness his stupor.

“Oh, we know. But, what can you do? Honestly, little bro, one human that’s being tortured by Lucifer every time he sleeps. One who drinks away the pain in a hope to forget, every night and you, an angel that thinks he’s falling.” Gabriel pointed out, and Dean frowned at him, opening his mouth, then shutting it with a snap. Dean glanced over at Castiel, and saw he was looking at the ground, and wondered if Castiel had heard Gabriel the same way Dean had.

“What do you mean, ‘ _thinks_ he’s falling’? Isn’t he?” Dean asked, looking from Gabriel to Michael, before glancing over at Castiel, who seemed to be stunned by Dean’s question and the implication behind it.

“Well… in theory, yeah, only God can actually take our Grace away from us. And, well, if he’s not around, then there isn’t anyone else _to_ take it. And, Raphael, technically, can weaken your grace, but you’ve got two more powerful Archangel’s willing to overrule ‘im! We’ll make you all shiny again!” Michael declared, and Dean couldn’t help the smile that broke over his face at Castiel’s stunned look. Though it dropped at Castiel’s next question.

“You have chosen a side then?”

“You have?!” Dean asked, looking up at Gabriel, seeing as Dean wasn’t entirely sure Michael was actually allowed to make a decision.

“Yeah… I told Sam we’d discuss the reasons in the morning, when he’s awake. But for now, just accept that me and Michael have decided to put our lot in behind you three.” Gabriel said, huffing and crossing his arms over his chest in a show of discomfort.

“Huh. In the morning, yeah?” Dean asked, and Gabriel looked at him warily, but nodded. So Dean turned to Michel. “You’re gonna watch over his sleep all night, right?”

“Yep.”

“Good. I’m gonna sleep too then.” Dean muttered, and kicked his boots off before climbing further onto the bed and curling around Sam, breathing in the scent of his little brother, and falling asleep, feeling safe for the first time in a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I talked this through with a friend, because I was unsure whether or not to keep it like this. I was told to explain Dean’s actions. So, in his situation, it’s hard. You want to help the person in pain, but at the same time, helping them is what is causing the pain. Dean is fully aware of how stupid his idea was, but as most people can agree, when you’re stressed and feeling trapped and alone, you’re logic kinda stops working. Instead of focusing on what Dean considered doing, it might be better to focus on the fact that he _didn’t_ do it. He left before he caved. So… Dean’s kinda stronger than he thinks. And he did what a lot of people, including myself, couldn’t do. So yeah… I’m sort of sorry if he came across as OOC, but I don’t think he did. Not really. Um… so no flaming me, please?
> 
> Also? Castiel’s name was made to be spoken in a Welsh accent. *nods*


End file.
